The Ways of Feeling
by CleoGal
Summary: "He had never felt the need of being close to someone. Thorin Oakenshield always had been just fine being on his own. So the embrace he had shared with the halfling on top of the Carrock, while being his own initiative, had shaken him to his very core. He needed to get his mind back in control over his emotions. It would be for the best. But would it be easy?"
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings to everyone who has decided to give this story a try! :)**

**I'm new to this site as a writer, but I've spent many hours reading the amazing stuff that can be found here. And lately my attention has been directed towards The Hobbit, especially the Thorin/Bilbo part of it. I've read everything I could find on these two and still my appetite seems to be unsated, so I decided to give it a try myself :) I've never written slash before (haven't written much of anything, actually), but I simply cpuldn't get the idea of them out of my mind. I'm not that familiar with Tolkien's books, so probably there will be many mistakes and wrong facts on my part here, so I apologize in advance. Also English is not my first language, so I hope your eyes won't hurt after reading :D**

**So yeah, there is much more I'd like to say, but I doubt you came here to read my babbling, so I'm gonna continue with the actual story. This was originally intended as a one-shot, but I guess I couldn't stop myself from rambling. Therefore-this is the first chapter with more to come!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, I simply use the characters to act out my imagination :)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**I**

He had never felt alone. He had never felt the need of being close to someone. Since he could remember himself, Thorin Oakenshield always had been just fine being on his own. When he was just a dwarfling, his status of a prince somehow made it hard for him to keep friends. He was royalty, and therefore had standarts to uphold. It was expected of him to behave like the future king should, being polite and graceful with his subjects, but never letting them too close. He would gladly involve himself in games and plays, yet he never felt bad about having to step away whenever he felt that it had been enough. The young prince of Erebor was known to be keeping himself busy learning the ways of a king, training to be a warrior or educating himself on the matters of mining and processing of precious metals, yet no one ever seemed to know his whereabouts. There had not been a single corner in Erebor that Thorin had not explored and gotten himself familiar with, but he somehow managed to do that without bothering anyone or even getting noticed.

When his brother and sister arrived, he had been genuinely happy, feeling proud and protective of his younger siblings. And while he was happy to play with them, to be included in their raising, he still felt the responsibility of being the heir to the throne, and therefore had to distance himself from the youngest members of his family. The little ones loved their older brother, but they prefered each others cheerful presence to that serious and somehow distant one of Thorin. And he never felt sad or lonely, since the enormosity of Erebor and richness of his own mind seemed just enough for him.

When Erebor fell, Thorin knew the responsibility was his to ensure the safety and comfort of his kin. He knew it was up to him to find them a home, a way to make a living. It was up to him to provide his sister with proper care and protection, once he was the only male left in her family. And he had done all that with ferocity of a fighter and stubborness of a dwarf. He gladly went through fire and water, if it meant well-being of his people.

He had learned early on that being a leader meant being alone, so now it was nothing new or upsetting to him. Thorin involved himself in life of his sister and nephews, but it never even crossed his mind to involve himself that closely with someone else. Dis was family, so were Fili and Kili, and he was responsible for them. He never felt the neccessity of having a consort, it didn't seem to matter since he already had heirs to the throne in the face of his nephews. So he led his life alone, being one on one with his thoughts and decisions, not feeling the urge to share his burden with someone else. Thorin was satisfied when left alone, and everybody around him knew the prince well enough not to get in his way.

Thorin knew that his way of keeping his distance made him look grumpy and solemn, but he couldn't care less. He was a prince, and was supposed to keep to himself. And while the physical need to be with someone did occure from time to time, he always went away from these encounters with a clear head and untouched emotions. As far as his people were aware, Thorin Oakenshield had no other emotions than hate for Smaug, disgust for the elves and strong affection for his sister and nephews.

And now, having spent his life being just fine with being alone with himself and not feeling the need to pay attention to someone more than it was absolutely necessary, Thorin was surprised to notice slight changes to his own ways. Ever since the beginning of this quest the halfling had constantly been on his mind. At first it had been pure curiosity on how this domestic little thing would survive in the wild, sporting his fancy dressing gown and bare feet that had not met anything tougher than the occasional rock on a soft sandy path. Then the curiosity had turned into annoyance for the hobbit managing to get himself in trouble. Incident with the trolls had left Thorin completely unimpressed and annoyed, even despite the fact that the halfling had had the wits to try talking to the trolls in order to buy some time.

His annoyance did crack a bit when the hobbit had returned to them after escaping Goblin Town. But Thorin hadn't had time to dwell on that since the orcs had different views on whether the company deserved a break or not. The next few hours passed in a craze, the halfling slipping to the back of his mind as he faced Azog. The hobbit however, managed to get Thorin's attention back on himself by attacking orcs and wargs twice his size with the ferocity and determination of a caged animal fighting for freedom. Surprise at that was the only thought Thorin had managed to register before everything went black.

So now, when he was lying by the fire, encircled by loud breathing and an occasional snore of his dwarves, Thorin Oakenshield tried to sort out his emotions that had come out of nowhere and crashed onto him. He was not one for unnecessary touches, he never felt the need to be that close to someone without a reason. So the embrace he had shared with the halfling on top of the Carrock, while being his own initiative, had shook him to his very core. He tried to dismiss that as mere feeling of surprise, gratitude and relief for being alive, but being honest with himself, he had to admit that he would gladly repeat his action again. And again. The feeling of a soft, little body pressed against his hard, tired and injured frame was something Thorin couldn't get out of his mind. It had been soothing, almost comforting to hold the hobbit close; and no matter how hard he tried, Thorin couldn't remember his thoughts during that precious little moment. All he was left with was a cluster of feelings; comfort, relief, affection, fear bundled together so hard, it was impossible for him to disintangle them.

He looked over to where the Halfling was sleeping beside Bofur, and sighed. A quick thought crossed his mind, that had he been in other dwarf's postion right now, he could simpy drape his arm around the little frame and feel the calming presence of it by his side again. Thorin groaned quietly, sat up and shook his head.

That drew attention from Balin, who had volunteered to be on watch out. The white haired dwarf looked at his king with concern in his eyes.

„Everything allright, laddie?"

Thorin struggled to stand up without using his injured arm or applying too much pressure on his damaged left side. With an irritated sigh he finally managed to stand upright and went over to Balin.

„Just having trouble sleeping."

Balin nodded his head with understanding. „Your injuries?"

Accepting this excuse, Thorin nodded, not wanting to talk to anyone about something he himself couldn't yet understand.

„Need me to look at them?"

„I'm fine. And since I'm not going to get any sleep, you should go and rest. It had been a long day for all of us. We will need our strenght tomorrow. No way of knowing how that meeting with Gandalf's man will go."

Knowing better than to argue with his king, Balin smiled quietly in acceptance and went over to the fire to find a place to sleep.

Thorin busied himself by trying to find a comfortable position to sit in. His left side ached, having taken the greatest part of damage from the warg's teeth. His left arm was bandaged, numerous puncture wounds deforming the already scarred skin. The dwarf had a passing thought that there probably wasn't a part of his body that hadn't experienced injuries during his many years of life. He almost laughed darkly at himself, but stopped in time to remember the look on halfling's face earlier that day when Dori was fussing aroung his king, accessing his injuries. The hobbit had looked extremely concerned, not even trying to blush or stop himself from staring at Thorin's half naked form, his bright eyes scanning over every inch of the dwarf's body, noting every scar and every mark on his skin. Thorin could almost imagine the halfling counting his scars, as his eyes grew wider and filled with emotion he couldn't quite place. He then saw one of his nephews put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder, obviously noticing his concern.

„Not to worry, Master Baggins. We've seen him worse, believe me." Kili had said with a smile, trying to reassure the hobbit. His words however, caused the exact opposite. Thorin saw the halfling gulp amost comically as those bright blue eyes get even bigger, and he was about to reassure the hobbit himself, wanting nothing more than to wipe that look of fear and concern away, but Dori had interrupted him, having just finished with bandaging of Thorin's arm.

„There you go. It doesn't look that bad, though you might have trouble moving around for a couple of days. The bandages should hold until tomorrow, I'll be able to do a better job with them once we get some ointments and clean dressings."

Thorin thanked Dori, noting in his mind that it was both for tending to his injuries and stopping him from talking to Bilbo. He was still confused about the hobbit and didn't need anyone noticing his odd mood. He had surprised everyone by hugging the halfling and it was enough of that for one day. No need to talk and accidentaly blurt something. He had made a promise to himself then and there that he would avoid talking to the hobbit until he had his thoughts all straight and figured out.

However now, sitting alone amongst his sleeping comrades, he realised that it would be easier said than done. The weird pull he felt towards the hobbit was almost palpable and Thorin was wise enough to listen to his own feelings rather than ignore them. Whatever the reason was, it would have to be a good one for it was making the dwarf king feel the way he could not remeber feeling like ever before.

He would access the situation with a clear head and good judgement; no need to dwell on feelings that he couldn't place. It would be for the best to get his mind back in control of his emotions. Yes, that was what he needed to do. As he was convincing himself that it would indeed be the best way to handle the situation, he heard a soft noise from his sleeping companions. After a quick glance around he saw that it was the hobbit mumbling something in his sleep. The dwarf felt corners of his mouth twich in something that desperately wanted to be a smile.

Thorin sighed and shook his head in quiet surrender. Once again, it would be easier said than done.

* * *

**Well, there it is. How was it? I will probably continue this story just to get it out of my system, but still it would be nice to hear (read) the feedback. Any comments? Suggestions? Well-deserved criticism? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I'm back with the next chapter already. It's just sitting there on my computer waiting to be published and I'm too eager for you to read it, so I can't seem to hold on to it any longer.**

**My thanks go out to all of you who took their time to read it. Thank you for following & adding this story as your favorite, it really means a lot to me. And special thanks to and _Saphireanime_ for reviewing. These little signs of your approval are very much appreciated and do more for my motivation than anything I could do to motivate myself. So thank you :)  
**

**Maybe I should have cleared this out in the first chapter, but I'm startin off at the ending of the movie. I'm planning on keeping close to the events in the book, but I'll be having my own timeline and describe the events in my own way. I guess you could say it's an AU that is keeping paralell to the original.**

**Oh, and I still own nothing.**

* * *

**II**

Bilbo Baggins woke up just in time to witness the first rays of sun peeking on the horizon. It had been a short rest for him, but he knew that more sleep would be unwelcome. Not that he wasn't tired, he was positive he could sleep for a week if only his mind allowed him to have a dreamless sleep, one without having to relive the horrors of previous night; he wouldn't mind not seeing the trees on fire and not hearing his friends screaming in fear and pain.

The hobbit remembered dreaming of Thorin charging to face Azog over and over again, and every time he, Bilbo, was too late to save him. Every time the scene ended with screams of horror from the dwarves and everything faded into blackness. Then it would repeat again and again until the hobbit's subconscious decided it was enough and allowed him to wake up.

He realised it would be the best to get up and start his day, not allowing himself to think what could have happened had he really been to late. Yesterday it had seemed so surreal, as if it hadn't really been him who had ran towards the orc, killing him with anger he hadn't known he posessed. It hadn't really been him who had stood in front of an unconsious Thorin, guarding him with his own little body. It hadn't been him who was being embraced by Thorin on top of the Carrock.

That thought jerked Bilbo back to reality. Had that really happened? Did Thorin, always being so distant and cold, really hug him? The hobbit couldn't find any indications that that had also been a dream, so it must have been true. The stoic and grumpy dwarf king had apparently been too shocked and distressed with the whole situation, that he probably hadn't been thinking of what he was doing. Such embrace must have been something out of characher for Thorin, if the surprised looks on the faces of other dwarves were any indication.

Bilbo felt good being on the receiving end of such a unique gesture, but he felt the pressure of it as well. After having some sleep Thorin probably had also had a change of heart and most likely would feel out of his comfort zone. And if he knew anything about the dwarf, Bilbo was sure that Thorin would approach the situation with denial. He couldn't really picture Thorin actually dealing with an uncomfortable situation instead of pretending that it didn't exist. With a sigh the hobbit got up and stretched his sore muscles, thinking that he should probably prepare himself for receiving annoyed glares or complete ignorance from Thorin. He definitely would prefer the latter, believing that pure ignorance was always better than obvious distaste, which he had gotten enough from the dwarf already.

Having that thought in his mind he wasn't prepared to hear the low whisper of a voice he knew too well.

„Morning, little one."

Bilbo whipped around to see if it was real or just his sleep deprived mind playing tricks on him. It was still relatively dark, so he had to squint, but eventually the hobbit was able to spot the figure of Thorin sitting on the ground not far from the group, leaning against a rock for support. His left arm was carefully cradled in his lap and Bilbo immediately wanted to rush towards him to make sure it was looking better than it had last night. He shook his head at the memory and struggled to scrape enough brains together to reply. His mind, however, didn't seem to cooperate.

„Oh.. Thorin.. Uhmm, hey." He sounded like a startled squirrel, great. Mentally he smacked himself on the head. „Good morning, that is." He tried again, unsure whether it would be wise to approach Thorin. His initial thought would be to stay where he was. But since the dwarf had started the conversation first and the look on his face didn't seem to be hostile or annoyed, Bilbo decided it probably would be fine to walk over. Plus, whispering over the heads of twelve sleeping dwarves wasn't really a proper way to have a conversation. Nor was it very wise considering that his companions were not the ones to welcome such way of awakening.

Carefully the hobbit made his way towards the dwarf, avoiding stepping on others and making his movements slower than necessary in order to have time to think of his further actions. Bilbo Baggins had never felt comfortable in Thorin's company, he felt constantly intimidated by dwarf's appearance. And now that they were presumably past the phase where they could go about without acknowleging each other more than it was necessary, the hobbit didn't know where that put them. He hadn't even considered the idea of Thorin talking to him, so the hobbit felt positively lost.

He couldn't stall forever, though, and eventually found himself standing not far away from the dwarf king. Deciding that it would be stupid of him to just stand there, he sat down, keeping his distance, trying to be as graceful as his sore muscles would allow. Bilbo felt Thorin's eyes on him and was unsure whether he wanted to meet that gaze. But considering himself a brave hobbit, he thought that no harm should come of it. Putting what he thought to be a neutral look on his face he looked at Thorin.

What he saw in those piercing blue eyes confused him even more than the dwarf greeting him a good morning. The eyes that were usually cold and distant now held something that Bilbo couldn't quite place. It was definitely an improvement considering the looks he had recieved from Thorin earlier and it made Bilbo feel good, somehow reminding him of the feeling he had when the dwarf had embraced him. But it still terrified the hobbit a little. He didn't know how to react to something he didn't understand. With the hug it had been easier, just having to hug back and let the feeling of relief, gratitude and trust wash over him. There was no way of knowing for sure, but the hobbit would bet his own head that there had been trust in that embrace. As if Thorin was allowing himself to put his own worries and fears on someone else's shoulders, even if it was just for one quick little moment. And Bilbo had felt more than happy to be a pillar for the dwarf to lean on, admitting to himself that he would gladly hug Thorin over and over again, if it meant making the dwarf feel at ease, just for a while.

But what was he supposed to do now? Bilbo doubted that jumping forward to embrace Thorin would do him any good for various reasons. First, he could not know for sure what went on in the mind of the king, having just learned that his expectations were proven to be wrong. Second, there would not be any way he could hug him without hurting his already injured frame. And the arm would probably get in the way as well. On the other hand, it would be nice to feel the large and strong frame embracing his little one again. And if he managed to get that arm out of the way, he was sure they both could be quite comfortable.

While he was weighting his options on what to do next, Bilbo wasn't really aware that time kept moving on without him. He was finally drawn away from his musings by Thorins voice, and the hobbit could swear he almost felt the air around him tremble as the dwarf spoke. Had he really just been listing the pros and cons of hugging him?

„Everything allright, halfling?"

„Yes, uhm.. Just thinking." And before Thorin could ask what thoughts had been so consuming to have captured his attention, Bilbo continued."How are your inj... I mean, how are you feeling?" He stopped himself just in time to rephrase his question, not sure if his injuries and vulnerability were something the dwarf wanted to discuss.

Thorin had obviosly noted the slip since Bilbo thought he saw corners of his mouth twich in a quick almost-smile before answering. „Better than I would have, considering the alternatives."

Bilbo was about to comment that there was no way of feeling anything without a head, but the dwarf continued, making the hobbit mentally thank him; jokes like this probably wouldn't go well with their new-found friendship. Friendship? Is this what this was?

„And my injuries are nothing to worry about." Thorin said with almost soothing softness in his voice, as if he was not the one who was injured. „You haven't seen really serious wounds, Master Baggins."

„And believe me, I'm not complaining." The hobbit retorted with distaste. He remembered seeing Thorin's bleeding torso yesterday, and wished he had been able to look away. But the scars that covered the dwarf's body were capturing his attention and not even a sight of food or something just as important would have drawn his look away from the numerous scars; he was too busy imagining every one of them being a fresh, bleeding wound. He shuddered at the memory, trying to get it out of his head.

„Not that many injuries in the Shire, eh?" Bilbo heard Thorin ask from somewhere nearby. Apparently he had drifted off somewhere with his thoughts again, the hobbit noted, being annoyed with himself.

„No, not really. I mean, there is an occasional cut finger or a bump on the head." He answered, trying to remember anything more serious happening. „I guess the worst I've seen is a broken nose when a neighbour of mine was hit in the face with an apple. That was really just an accident." With no fault of mine, he added mentally, trying to forget how his aiming skills had seemed to abandon him after a pint of mead.

„All this," he gestured towards Thorin's arm that he hadn't moved ever since he had sat down, „is really new to me. You'd think I would have become accustomed to seeing blood by now, but it still bothers me. Especially when..." he trailed off, not knowing whether he wanted to finish the thought. Even to himself, let alone out loud.

„Yes?" Thorin asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Bilbo tore his eyes away from Gloin who's sleeping form he had been directing his attention to while speaking and looked ar the dwarf next to him. The look in his eyes seemed more like the one the hobbit was used to, but it still held a hint of emotion from earlier. He then sighed and decided that it would not be productive to annoy Thorin with half-ended thoughts.

„Especially when the one who should be leading us goes and almost gets himself killed." He said, looking back to Gloin, not wanting to see the anger that was probably now filling Thorin's eyes; the hobbit wanted to keep the memory of those eyes carrying something warm, the emotion from before. And he would not contaminate it. He could almost imagine how Thorins eyes narrowed in distaste. So Bilbo prepared himself for well-deserved anger.

But he dwarf seemed to be determined to do the exactly the opposite of what Bilbo expected this morning. No harsh words came from him as the hobbit felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

„Dwarves are not that easy to break, Master Hobbit." He said softly with that soothing tone in his voice again and squeezed his hand lightly. „Nor is it that easy to anger us by speaking the truth." He added quietly and gave Bilbo's shoulder one last squeeze before retrieving his hand.

The hobbit looked at him with surprise. Since when did Thorin react calmly to such words? He had basically said that the dwarf had been reckless in his decision to stand against their enemies alone, and all he got for that were words of reassurance. And a reassuring touch.

As he looked at Thorin in awe, another thought hit him. Since when did Thorin read his thoughts and emotions? That last comment of his could only have been directed towards Bilbo's own assumptions of how Thorin was going to react.

To say that the hobbit was dumbfounded would be an understatement. He barely noticed that the sun was already high in the sky and the other dwarves were beginning to wake. The only thing that held his attention now was Thorin Oakenshield, looking as majestic and distant as he always had, yet feeling somehow closer. And warmer.

The dwarf gave Bilbo one last look and stood up, leaving the hobbit alone with his thoughts. And the little smile that had crept to his lips without him noticing.

* * *

**Any thoughts? :) Every opinion and piece of advice will be highly appreciated!**

**Oh and one more thing-I'm not really sure about the title. Those always seem to be my weak spot :/ What do you think of it?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for following and adding this story as a favourite! And for the reviews, of course! It means a lot to me knowing that people are actually reading and liking it :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

They were walking in silence. The small amount of sleep they had gotten was not enough, and since most of their possesions were lost in Goblin Town, last night their only option had been to sleep on bare ground covered with their own coats. It had been a quiet morning for them, the only noise being an occasional grunt of discomfort. But nobody complained and even the halfling seemed to be fine with ignoring the fact that they didn't have breakfast.

Thorin cast another look at his company, making sure that they were all still moving and keeping up. His eyes settled on the hobbit who was obviously struggling, but doing his best not to stay behind. Everything about the look of him screamed that he was tired and in desperate need of a good night sleep and a hot meal. As were the rest of them.

With a sigh the dwarf drifted his attenton to Gandalf. The wizard had said that the man they were supposed to meet lived not that far away, but they have been walking for hours now and there were no indications that they were getting any closer. The sun was high in the sky and the occasional quick stop they took to rest in the shadow of a tree didn't really save them from the heat. As they stopped once again Thorin approached Gandalf.

„How far is this friend of yours, really?" He asked, practically sensing everybody else listening in. That was a question they all wanted but didn't dare to ask. „We have been on the road for hours now, and it doesn't look like we are anywhere near the place."

„Beorn is not a friend of mine, you better remember that, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf answered, sounding quite annoyed. Obviously the walking wasn't easy on him either. „And it's not his duty to help us. Keeping that in mind, I suggest you lighten up a bit, an angry dwarf is not the most pleasant visitor you could have. And since Beorn is not as hospitable as our burglar here, it would benefil all of us if you kept your bad mood to yourself." He said with a note of finality.

„You didn't answer my question." Thorin tried not to react to Gandalf's words. „My men are tired, we all need to rest and your empty promises aren't doing us any good." He spat, feeling last of his self control leave him.

Thorin saw the wizard's eyes darken and the dwarf prepared himself for an argument when Kili's voice interrupted them.

„We seem to be close." He said getting down from a tree he had climbed to observe their surroundings. „I think I saw be bee-pastures south-east of here, and there seemed to be a house closeby. It shouldn't take us more than an hour to get there."

„Well, then the is no reason for us to stall." Gandalf said cheerfully, looking back at Thorin. „Shall we?" And without waiting for a response the wizard took of in Kili's pointed direction.

The dwarves soon followed, their spirits lifted by the quite real promies of a rest. Thorin stayed behind, trying to get his temper under control. The wizard had been right, this skin-changer had no obligation to show them hospitality, and he needed to be a pleasant guest. Well, as pleasant as a dwarf could be. Still, it didn't mean Gandalf infuriated him any less.

Being quite lost in his thoughts it took him a moment to realise that he was not alone. Apparently the hobbit had also stayed behind. And now he was just standing there blinking at Thorin. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at him. „What is it?" His voice came out softer than he had expected. How could his voice change like that without him even trying?

The halfling blinked a couple more times before answering. „Nothing. Just, uhm.. Gandalf turns out to be pretty annoying, huh?" He offered with a smile.

The careless and completely casual tone of the statement was enough to make Thorin laugh. He caught up with the urge in time and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He then settled for a curt nod of agreement. „Yes, he can be infuriating. And I'm quite sure he does that willingly."

The hobbit snorted. „Oh no, I don't really think even Gandalf would be crazy enough to annoy a dwarf on purpose." He stopped to laugh quietly to himself. „Although I guess at his age there isn't much that would scare him."

Thorin did allow himself a small smile at that one. „Are you saying that the dwarves scare you, Master Baggins?" He asked as they started following the rest of their group. They seemed to be quite far behinf, but none of the two made any attempts to rush.

The hobbit looked at Thorin as if trying to predict his reaction to whatever he was about to say. The dwarf gave him what was supposed to bea reassuring nod. The halfling nodded in return and turned his gaze to their company. „Well, they used to. I mean there aren't really any dwarves in the Shire, and the stories we hear are not the nicest ones." He said with a shrug. „But you're not that bad." He offered with a smile. „I mean, all of you, not just.. you." The halfling was looking at his feet now. And if his dwarvish vision wasn't playing a trick on him, Thorin though he saw a hint of red colouring the tips of hobbit's pointy ears.

The dwarf nodded once again, not knowing whether he should comment or not. Not that he really could since all coherent words had seemed to abandon him at the sight of the halfling, quietly walking beside him, the tips of his ears returning to their normal colour. He was still looking at his feet and Thorin suddenly realised that the little creature next to him had somehow managed to calm him down, without even trying. Or at least he assumed that the hobbit wouldn't have tried to do that on purpose. And why should he?

Thorin let his mind wander back to the conversation they had shared early in the morning. He could swear he had almost felt the halfling's confusion while he was walking towards him, definitely taking more time than necessary; he had felt those bright blue eyes on his covered wounds and knew that he was remembering how they had looked like exposed. And he could remember vividly the way something inside him had squeezed into a tight ball of discomfort when the hobbit had looked away from him, clearly expecting the dwarf to get mad at what he had said.

It was difficult for Thorin to even vaguely remember what the halfling had said, since the only thing he could recall with absolute clarity was the desperate need he had felt to make the hoobbit feel better, and almost instinctively he had reached out his hand and given him a reassuring touch. And if the dwarf was being completely honest with himself, that touch had been as selfish as it was meant to be comforting for the hobbit. He had somehow gathered his mind together enough to say the words he needed the halfling to hear. The uncomfortable tightness somewhere in his chest was still suffocating him, and it only left him when the hobbit had finally looked back.

The look in those eyes had been confused, somehow relieved and had a hint of something else in them that Thorin couldn't quite read. That look seemed to make his self control slowly slip away and the dwaf knew he had to get away from the hobbit before he did something rash. Like hug him again or something else. But before he could expand the idea of what else he possibly could have done, he felt a quiet voice from a distance calling his name.

„..hear me? Thorin?" The voice suddenly became loud and clear and Thorin realised he was standing looking ahead without seeing anything. Apparently he had stopped and the hobbit was standing in front of him with concern writen on his face.

The dwarf felt his eyes slowly focus on the halfling standing quite closely. If he reached out his hand he could probably grab his arm and pull the hobbit to him, and then..

„Thorin?" The hobbit interrupted his musings, clearing Thorin's mind completely. „Is everything fine?"

„Yes." The dwarf answered his voice lower than usual. „Something on my mind."

The hobbit nodded, apparently not wanting to impose and ask more. „Yes, well, I think we should hurry, the rest seem to be almost there."

Thorin grunted in agreement and strode off to where the rest of their company was. They were pretty far ahead of the two and the dwarf wondered how long had he stood there. The halfling probably now thought him to be mentally damaged or something. And he had a passing thought of possibility of that being true. Since when did he get affected by others that easily? And since when did he have those kind of.. urges? He knew what it was like when his body felt the need of a touch, but this was something different entirely. This seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, a place he didn't really know had existed.

He tried to clear his head and decided to deal with that later. Now he only had to keep in control of himself and he should be fine. And so would the hobbit.

The hobbit in question was trailing behind him and Thorin was thankful for the silence.

They reached the rest of the group soon enough, they were waiting by a high thorn hedge, trying not to look interested in why their leader had stayed behind. In company of their burglar of all people. Thorin pretended not to see the smirk and raised eyebrow that Dwalin shot him. Curse that dwarf for noticing everything that wasn't his business.

Gandalf seemed to be annoyed but didn't comment on anything. „We should go in pairs." He stated simply. „I shall go in first with our burglar. When you hear a whistle, the next two are to enter." The wizard shot a look at Thorin. „And I think it would be best if you came in last, Thorin, right after Bombur. That would give me time to prepare Beorn for your grand entrance."

Thorin sensed mockery in Gandalf's voice, but chose to simply grind his teeth instead of retorting. He leaned agaist the hedge and prepared himself for waiting. The dwarves quickly dividen into pairs and Thorin looked at the wizard, the halfling on his right side, about to go through the gate. The hobbit looked back at him, and the dwarf was certain he saw a hint of question in those eyes. He nodded curtly, as if assuring the halfling that it was allright for him to go. The hobbit answered with a nod of his own and turned to follow Gandalf.

As the gate closed behind them, Thorin smirked darkly to himself; apparently out of the whole company, their burglar was the only one who actually thought of finding out their leader's opinion, while his dwarves seemed to be just fine listening to the wizard without a hint of doubt.

They heard Gandalf's whistle again and again, and soon enough Thorin found himself to be waiting alone. It was a good sign that none of his companions had returned, it meant that their host would probably give them a shelter after all. As the dwarf heard the whizard whisle one last time, he took a moment to prepare himself for whatever was to come and made his way through the gate.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry that it took so long for me to update this. For quite a while I wasn't sure how I should continue writing the next chapter, but then it just sort of wrote itself :) So, here you go! And once again, thank you for following, reviewing and adding this to your favourites! I repeat this everytime I update, but I really do feel grateful! **

**Hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

**IV**

The meeting with Beorn went better than anyone had expected. After hearing their story he had gladly accepted them as guests, and even Thorin with his usual royally cold and arrogant attitude didn't seem to bother him. Their host had left them to eat, drink and rest while he himself left in a rush; Gandalf guessed that he had gone to check his borders for any orcs or goblins that might have followed them.

Now when he was laying in his bed, these soft sheets reminding him very much of his own bed back at Bag End, sleep seemed to avoid Bilbo. Had he not dreamed of this? Had he not hoped to be able to sleep on something softer than bare ground; had he not wanted to rest his head on a real pillow, something he hadn't been able to do ever since they had left Rivendell behind? And now when all his dreams and wishes were turned into reality, the hobbit still failed to find peace within himself. He was warm and comfortable, his stomach full and clothes clean. Even his hair was clean and no longer smelled of goblins, and yet something still felt very wrong.

Maybe that was it? Maybe he was so used to sleep under the stars that now it proved to be impossible for him to sleep indoors? Or maybe it was just that this felt too good to be true and Bilbo subconsciously waited for something bad to happen? But nothing did. Minutes passed, they merged together into hours and the hobbit was still tossing and turning. He sat up swiftly and with a quick look around he counted twelve sleeping forms scattered around the big room that Beorn had left for their use. The hobbit had been the first one to go to bed and now it seemed like he was the last one to remain awake. Well, apart from the one missing dwarf. He didn't even have to take another look to see who that was.

Thorin had disappeared right after Beorn. Fili and Kili had made an attempt to follow him, but a look and a quiet „Let him be" from Dwalin stopped them. They had continued with their meal without him, but on several occasions Bilbo thought that he could perhaps slip away from the others and check on Thorin, and every time he stopped himself. Who was he to have the right to express his worries for the dwarven king? Yes, he had just saved his life recently, but did it give him the right to get all concerned and caring? His own answer was always a no. He was still nothing more than just their burglar, his burglar.

If Bilbo was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit that Thorin's absence was disturbing him more than it should have, and probably was another reason why the hobbit couldn't sleep. Ironically, it had also been the reason he had gone to bed early. Well, that worked out just fine, he noted bitterly in his mind and decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air would cool him down. Or maybe he should just walk around until his body was so tired that it would pass out on its' own. The idea did seem appealing.

As Bilbo quietly walked out of their room, he realised that there actually was a legitimate reason for him to be worried for Thorin; the dwarf seemed to be acting somehow weird ever since they had escaped those orcs. Obviously meeting an enemy that he had thought to be dead would be stressfull. And so would the prospect of being beheaded, but if Bilbo thought he knew something about Thorin that he was absolutely sure of, it was his dedication to the task he had ahead of him. There shouldn't be much that could throw him out of his concentration and prove to be an obstacle. Quietly Bilbo hoped that it wasn't him who was perhaps making Thorin uncomfortable.

Yesterday he would have thought that Thorin was simply not quite comfortable with the fact that he had acted on an impulse and hugged their burglar. Today however, nothing in his behaviour acted as a proof for that. They had talked, Bilbo had even made a few attempts to joke. He wasn't expecting Thorin to laugh maniacally of course, the hobbit felt very well off with the few little smiles he had gotten. Nothing indicated that the dwarf was mad or upset with Bilbo for something. He had felt almost at ease with him, yet somehow his behaviour seemed weird.

At one point, and Bilbo couldn't say if that really had happened or was just a fruit of his tired and messed up imagination, but he was sure he had almost experienced another hug from the dwarf. He was now cursing himself for ruining that moment by calling Thorin out of his musings; he wouldn't have minded for the dwarf to continue the movement of his arm and pull him, Bilbo, into an embrace. At that moment such a need to feel Thorin close to him had arisen in his gut, the hobbit wasn't sure he could trust himself not to act on it. Hobbits were prone to touching, and if an opportunity presented itself to touch Thorin, Bilbo knew his hobbity senses would make him go for it. And a quiet voice in the back of his head told the hobbit that Thorin wouldn't really object.

Being quite lost in his own thoughts, Bilbo didn't even notice at first that he was already out on the porch. The cool breeze caressed his face and cooled his head. Summer nights had always been his favourite. The hobbit closed his eyes and leaned against a support beam, allowing the night to envelop him in it's warmth and quiet. It sure felt better than the bed that had turned into an oven during the hours he had spent there. Maybe he should just go fetch his pillow and covers and come sleep out here? He doubted there was any danger and the night would surely provide him with much better sleep. Plus, he could actually spend the night without having to jump up from his sleep when an occasional extra loud snore escaped one of the dwarves. If his countings were correct, Gloin was the current champion, his snores were loud enough to wake Oin, and that was something.

Just as he made the move to return and grab his covers, Bilbo heard a sharp hiss from somewhere around the corner. He turned to his left and noticed that the porch seemed to go around the whole house. And it sounded like someone on the other side of the house was in pain. A quick panick shot through his spine, but the hobbit calmed himself down right away. There weren't many options who that might be. Just the one, in fact.

He slowly went towards the corner, not sure if he should impose. But his instincts seemed to ignore his mind right now and soon he was peeking around the corner. The sight that greeted him seemed to amaze and mortify the hobbit at the same time.

He saw Thorin sitting on the ground, the upper part of his body was naked and the dwarf was slowly removing bandages from his injured side. His arm was already bare and Bilbo flinched at the sight of red gashes that seemed to cover every inch of the skin. The hobbit gulped painfully and looked back to Thorins left side, it was almost completely exposed to the cool air and Bilbo could see black and blue bruises that seemed to be very painful. A part right under Thorin's left shoulder and armpit was still bandaged and the dwarf was obviously struggling with untying the knot since his left arm wouldn't lift as high as he needed it to.

Without stopping to think Bilbo rounded the corner and saw Thorin look up at him. „Let me help you."

If Thorin was startled, he didn't let it show. „I can handle it." He then moved his injured arm too quickly to prove his point, and suddenly went pale. For a moment Bilbo thought that the dwarf was going to pass out. Luckily Thorin proved him wrong. The hobbit took another step closer.

„Clearly you can't." He gave Thorin what was meant to be a reassuring smile. „Come on, I won't hurt you more than you will hurt yourself if you keep this up."

Thorin was still glaring at him, not convinced. Bilbo tried again. „It's not that easy to break a dwarf, remember?" This time the smile was supposed to be amused and with a sigh Thorin nodded.

„Fine."

Bilbo also settled for a nod and came closer, now not being quite sure how approach the dwarf. Thorin obviously noticed that. „Just come and sit here on my left. There's a knot I cannot seem to reach. Apparently Dori really wanted this one to stick."

„Right." The hobbit mumbled, getting on his knees next to Thorin. „Let me just.. um, take a look." He was suddenly very unsure what to do. He wasn't that confident anymore that he could do this without hurting the dwarf. „Um, the knot, yes, it seems to be quite, um, tight. Let me just try and untie it." He proceeded to work his quick fingers on the knot that was located right beneath the juncture of Thorin's shoulder. It proved to be a difficult task since Bilbo was extra careful no to touch the dwarf. Partly because he didn't want to hurt him more than necessary, but more importantly because he wasn't sure how his body would react to skin-to-skin contact.

He was suddenly very aware how close they were to each other. And how naked Thorin was. Bilbo forbade himself to look anywhere else, just the damn knot and hoped desperately that the heat that had risen up his neck would stay there. The knot finally gave away and the hobbit helped Thorin get rid of the bandages.

What he saw underneath left him wishing that he had stayed away and let Thorin deal with this. He saw two deep parallel cuts that began just beneath his collar bone and went along his ribcage to end somewhere on his back.

Bilbo heard himself gasp. „And you didn't think to ask Dori to check these for you?" The hobbit asked, trying to look away from the blood that had clotted around the edges of the cut.

„Obviously I did not. Beorn provided me with some ointment and clean bandages. I can handle the rest."

„Yes, I saw that." Bilbo replied sarcastically. He wasn't an expert on how to treat these kinds of wounds, but he was pretty sure they would at least have to be clean.

„You stay put." He told Thorin and stood up. „I'll be back soon." And without waiting for an answer he went back to their room and found a bucket of clean water that Beorn had left fot their use. The hobbit looked around for a clean cloth, but could see none. He then noticed his own shirt, one that he was hoping to mend in the morning, and decided that it would have to do. He quickly went back to Thorin. The dwarf had apparently listened to him and hadn't moved and inch. Or maybe he was simply in too much pain to move.

Bilbo crouched down on his previous spot and placet the bucket next to himself. He then proceeded to rip the shirt apart. If he used the cloth carefully, he could maybe save some for the future. These cuts would need some time to heal. He ignored the voice in his head that kept asking him why he was so sure to be the one to treat Thorin's wounds in the future.

Being quite concentrated on his task, the hobbit didn't notice the large hand that was suddenly atop of his and stopped him from ripping the shirt any further.

„What are you doing, burglar?" Thorin asked and raised an eyebrow at Bilbo.

„What?" The hobbit was suddenly lost in the depth of two very blue eyes just inches away from his. If he leaned in closer, he would probably drown in them.

„Is this not your shirt?" Bilbo was sure Thorin's voice was deeper than it had been a moment ago.

„Um, yes. But it's too damaged for me to salvage, anyways. It should make a decent washcloth." He forced himself to look away. Look anywhere else than those eyes that were more appealing to him than second breakfast. And for a hobbit that was something.

„You shouldn't have." The dwarf's voice was still rasp.

„Well, do you have anything that would do?" Bilbo asked. And when Thorin said nothing, he added, „That's what I thought. Really, it's just a shirt." He took a risk and looked at the dwarf. The look in his eyes was unreadable.

When Thorin didn't say anything else, Bilbo ripped the shirt into pieces that vere enough to do their job, he proceeded to soak the cloth in the water. Carefully he drained the extra water and looked at the dwarf with a small smile.

„This will probably sting." He said apologetically and waited fot Thorin to acknowledge him. The dwarf settled for a curt nod and Bilbo proceeded to wash the cuts. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but the very first touch of the wet cloth to the exposed flesh earned him a sharp hiss of pain from the dwarf. He quickly drew his hand back and looked at Thorin again. the dwarf was grinding his teeth, his right hand was clenched into a fist, knuckles white as chalk.

„I'm sorry." Bilbo whispered. „Maybe I should really get Dori? He is much more capable not to hurt you than I am."

„I'm not that weak, burglar." Thorin's voice was suddenly harsh. „You won't hurt me more than that damned warg already did. So either do it or leave it to me."

Bilbo nodded quietly and returned to wash the wounds, trying to ignore the hissing and clenching of fists. Thorin's left hand was clenched into a fist as well, and the hobbit hoped that he wouldn't punch him instinctively.

A few very long moments later Bilbo was done with washing of the wounds, without the old blood they didn't look as bad. He pushed the bucket that now contained red water away from him and looked at Thorin, awaiting further instructions.

„I'm no expert, but I think they are not that bad once clean." He smiled at the dwarf, hoping to remedy for hurting him. „Anything else I could do?"

„Well, there is that ointment that Beorn left me. It's supposed to have some healing abilities, but dwarves heal easily on their own." He said and looked at Bilbo as if challenging him to disagree.

The hobbit smiled back, not falling for it. „But I'm sure it wouldn't do you any worse, would it?"

„I guess not." Thorin sighed and pointed with his head to his right. „It's there, on my coat."

Bilbo nodded and made a move to get it. It only then hit him that he had not gotten up, he had simply leaned over to get the ointment, and currently found himself leaning over Thorin's lap. He concentrated his eyes on the small jar that was indeed placed on Thorin's heavy leather coat. When his fingers finally managed to grab it, he got back into his previous position and hoped that the dwarf wouldn't notice his blush.

With numb fingers he opened the lid, avoiding Thorin's gaze that he knew was concentrated on him. When the jar was open, he had nothing else to do but to look back at the dwarf. The unreadable look was back in those eyes.

„What now?" Bilbo found his own voice being deeper than usual.

„You have to apply it. On the wounds." Thorin said, not breaking the gaze.

„Are you sure you want me to instead of doing it yourself?"

„Yes." That one little whisper of word sent shivers through the hobbit as if he was suddenly hit with a cold breeze. He slowly nodded and proceeded to dip his fingers in the sweet smelling substance. He scooped enough and applied in gently to the wounds.

Actual skin-to-skin contact sent another round of shivers through him. Bilbo slowly proceeded to work on every wound he could see and suddenly wished that Thorin had more. Not that he wanted him to hurt, but the idea of touching more of Thorin was too appealing to resist. He looked for more injuries he could treat and saw a cut on the dwarf's cheek. It was a simple scratch but the temptation was too great and without much thinking Bilbo reached out and covered the small cut with the paste. He smoothed over it a couple more times to make sure he had gotten enough.

He was about to smooth over it once again when a low gluttural sound stopped him. He looked at Thorin and realized that the sound had come from him. Apparently Bilbo had gotten carried away. He looked at his hands and pretended to look for something to clean his hands with. When he found nothing, he simply proceeded to rub his hands together, the paste that was obviously made of beeswax could do some good to his cut and aching hands.

Bilbo once again had to force himself to look at Thorin. He tried to ignore the weird feeling in his gut when his gaze reached those piercing blue eyes, that now seemed to have a hint of fire in them. Or maybe it wasn't fire, but Bilbo was awfully aware of how hot he suddenly felt.

„I, um, shall I get the bandages?" He asked, his voice unusually rasp. All he got in response was a nod.

The hobbit then stood up and this time went to get the bandages that were also on Thorin's coat, instead of leaning over the dwarf again. His legs felt weird and foreign, and Bilbo tried to convince himself that that was due to crouching for a long time and nothing else.

When he got the bandages, the hobbit put all of his concentration to applying them, not allowing himself to look at Thorin's face. He wasn't sure what would happen if he did, but he knew he was eager to find out and would probably not be responsible for his further actions. So he had to concentrate on the task, and so he did until a warm hand on his wrist stopped him.

Startled, Bilbo looked at Thorin and all his concentration went to hell. He turned his hand so that now he was also grasping Thorin's wrist. The hobbit wasn't sure if there was a pull from Thorin or if he leaned forward on his own accord, but he was very aware that the dwarf's face was slowly moving closer to him. Or was he moving closer himself? At this point he couldn't even tell if he was still breathing. Bilbo was spellbound, he couldn't look away from those mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to get darker by the second.

When there was a mere inch between them, Bilbo felt his tongue instinctively lick his lips. Thorin's gaze followed the sudden movement and the hobbit would bet on his best dressing gown that his eyes were now darker than he had ever seen them. The dwarf then let his gaze move back and meet Bilbo's. The hobbit felt his wrist being released from the previous grasp and with a corner of his eye he saw that a large hand was being raised and moved towards his cheek. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the touch that never came.

When a hand landed on his shoulder Bilbo opened his eyes just in time to see the fire in Thorin's gaze fade away, his eyes going back to their normal colour. The dwarf lowered his head and since they were still pretty close together, a strand of his hair found it's way to caress Bilbo's cheek. The hobbit was very tempted to inhale the scent of it, being sure that it would be musky and smell of fresh earth, just like Thorin always did. But instead of doing that he chose to lift his left hand and place it on the larger one that was still on his shoulder. With his right hand he removed the soft hair from his face and placed it behind Thorin's back, making sure his fingers grazed over the dwarf's naked skin as he did so. The small touch once again sent shivers through him, and Bilbo had to wonder what would it be like if the contact was bigger. A hand on his cheek, his hand against Thorin's chest, the dwarf's hand in his hair. Before Bilbo could continue his musings, he felt his shoulder being squeezed lightly and heard a quiet sigh from the dwarf. He was not sure what to make of their current situation and as much as he didn't want to move away, he realized that there was no way of knowing how Thorin felt. And therefore he should not make any rash decisions and it would probably be for the best not to give this situation too many thinking.

„Thorin?" The dwarf looked up upon hearing his name, his eyes now sharp and aware. Bilbo tried to make his tone gentle and not as rasp as it had been earlier. „I should probably finish with the bandages, right?" The dwarf nodded.

„Good then." His hands were shaking while he tried to apply the bandages as well as he could. At some point Thorin had removed his hand from Bilbo's shoulder, and the hobbit felt a sting of sadness for the loss of contact. He quickly tied the last knot and was unsure what to do next. Thorin had lowered his gaze again and Bilbo didn't know if he should disturb the dwarf since he seemed to be deep in thought. But he couldn't just sit there either.

„Well, all done." He tried to sound cheerful. „I guess I'll be going then." When no answer came, Bilbo simply stood up and began to walk away.

His feet felt numb, but he trusted them to get him to his bed and let his mind wonder. What happened was not simple gratitude for saving one's life. He had already gotten that gratitude from the dwarven king, and this seemed to be something else. Something that he hadn't just made up in his head, Bilbo was sure. The hobbit tried to sort through his own emotions, but they were currently a bundle of raw nerves and he couldn't reach them without getting confused. The only feeling he could decipher though, was affection.

Sure, he felt affection for Thorin. Hobbits were affectionate creatures and Bilbo Baggins was no exeption. And even if the dwarf had not been on his nicest behavior towards him, Bilbo knew by now not to dwell on it. He felt affection towards the other dwarves, too, he reminded himself. Yes, but he had never had the urges to touch them. And he had never been an inch away from kissing them.

Voicing the thought in his head made him blush. Bilbo was not unexperienced when it came to showing off affection for others, in his relativey short and respectable life he had had his share of flirting and kissing, and occasional physical intimacy. It wasn't unusual for the hobbits to lay with others before they settled with their mate. But he had never been attracted to another male. Let alone a dwarf.

He knew emotions and was pretty sure that Thorin felt the same way. His eyes alone had expressed more than he could ever say with words. But until the dwarf would act on it himself, Bilbo would stay away and make no first moves. A part of him still thought that he could be wrong, and he wasn't too eager to confirm it. Another part of him simply told him that he shouldn't rush Thorin. He knew the dwarf well enough to realize that he would get what he want if he wanted it. The hobbit blushed again at the thought that Thorin might actually want him. But he would have to wait. There was no way of knowing how the dwarf would respond to his hobbit ways of showing affection.

Bilbo climbed under the covers, hoping that he would find some rest after all. It was nearly dawn and his body was in desperate need of at least a couple hours of sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the way Thorin's earthy smell had enveloped him when they embraced on top of the Carrock. He tried to imagine how it would feel to touch Thorin's hair and let his hand slide through it. He couldn't stop himself from imagining the dwarf's arms reach out and pull him close, their faces mowing towards each other, but this time without an interruption. His last conscious thought was of feeling Thorin's breath on his lips as he guided his to meet them.

The hobbit was unaware of the footsteps that followed him into their room and didn't hear the quiet whisper of „Thank you" as the leader of their company settled for sleep.

* * *

**There is something about Bilbo treating Thorin's wounds that I couldn't resist :) All kind of feedback will be highly appreciated!**


End file.
